


The Way We Were

by Koroshimasu



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Flirting, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Bottom Gavin Reed, Crack Treated Seriously, Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Dirty Jokes, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Gavin Reed Redemption, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light and dark comedy, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Mutual Pining, Nines is sometimes creepy in this, On Hiatus, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Top Upgraded Connor | RK900, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, feelings suck, reed900, we all float down here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22487266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koroshimasu/pseuds/Koroshimasu
Summary: Gavin Reed voluntarily checks himself into a rehab and mental health facility after a failed suicide attempt. Once admitted into the facility, he settles into his own routine, living day by day emptily, counting down time until he has nothing left. The monotonous, repetitive existence he falls into soon takes a different turn when a new patient is admitted into the facility and becomes his roommate.But who exactly is this person? What’s an android doing in a mental health and rehab center? And why does he refer to himself as ‘Nameless’?*Loosely based off ‘Girl, Interrupted’*
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 78
Kudos: 58





	1. Cruel Beginnings

**The Way We Were**

Rope had been the biggest mistake. Why had he chosen to use rope? Of all things, rope!! He could’ve used anything else at his disposal, and yet he’d selected the damn rope. How crazy. Knives were aplenty in his apartment…but that would hurt…he didn’t want there to be scars on his skin, and he certainly didn’t want to be a burden on any mortician who’d have to use up sutures to stitch him back up. His parents of course would have to be alerted as to how he’d done the deed, and he knew that they would freak out if their ‘poor baby boy’ had cut himself up. They would likely blame themselves for how he’d turned out, perhaps would then blame each other while competitively trying to determine who the failure wasn’t and who the better parent was.

Yeah…it was probably a lot better in the long run not to do that, anyway.

He supposed he could drown himself…no…he didn’t want to be found in the tub or the shower naked like some moron. Then, someone would likely pity him, and he didn’t need that in the slightest. Fuck pity. It never did anyone any good, and he’d been without it for so long. Why did he need it, now? Drowning was out of the question. Plus, he didn’t want to look like some wrinkly old prune…gross. He had to go out with some dignity.

Shooting himself in the head would be too messy, poisoning himself wasn’t worth all that pain, and he couldn’t exactly blow up his own apartment…why make other innocent people go down with him? They weren’t him; they were better. They deserved to live and breathe; he didn’t. Plus, it was bad for the environment, seriously.

Rope it was. Asphyxiation it was.

Settling on that, Gavin found some old rope hiding away in his closet, and he tied it around an exercise chin-up bar hanging from his ceiling. Perfect height, perfect length. It was better to carry this out in here rather than outside in a tree. Sure, the weather was lovely, but he wasn’t going to be a fool and scar some young children and their parents while they played around innocently in the park across his apartment.

…Well, he would possibly have a nice, scenic view if he opened the curtains partway and hung himself right in front of the cerulean sky…it would be worth it to look up.

He’d prepared for it for nearly thirty minutes. The noose was perfect. Looping it around his neck, he stood up on a small stool, eyes cast at the clear window before himself. Taking a few tiny breaths and then holding them so he could appear like a bloated bullfrog, he vowed to make the job easier on himself. Even in death, he was going to be good to himself. Counting down the seconds, he barely let his toes glide along the top of the stool, when he heard movement and shifting behind his front door…

Of course, as nicely as he’d prepared everything, there had to be interruptions. Gavin had left his front door unlocked, and he hadn’t remembered that Tina Chen, his ex-girlfriend, would be snooping by. He’d been so stupid that he hadn’t asked for his spare key back, anyway. Not that it would’ve worked.

She’d been the one who’d called the police on him, which was ridiculous considering how he was part of the Detroit Police department anyway. So now, everyone he worked knew how messed up he was. Thank you, Tina god damn Chen. Thank you for that.

Gavin had been hauled off to the hospital in a heartbeat, and a psychiatrist had to evaluate him for a few hours. He sat through a dull, insipid interview, answering many odd, useless, goofy questions about his childhood, about his sex life, about his goals, ambitions, dreams, plans. Same old routine, different faces. Next, he’d been placed under ‘suicide watch’, and that lasted for all of twenty-four hours.

Security was lax there, too. All it’d taken was for Gavin to try and fashion a noose out of his stripped bed sheets, and then he’d been spoken to by a small team of psychiatrists. Their judgmental, beady eyes, their hypocritical sneers, their taunting whispers. They all shook their heads at him like little puppets being bounced and shaken on one string, and they asked him one last round of questions.

Of course, it’d been another waste of time…until one of them slid forward a piece of paper towards Gavin across the table.

_Voluntary Admission into Detroit Mental Health and Addictions Awareness Rehab Center._

All it’d taken was for him to sign his first and last name down on a line beneath paragraph after paragraph of some shit he couldn’t be bothered to read about and digest. What did it matter, anyway? He was nuts. They knew it, his parents knew it, his friends knew it, his relatives knew it, and he knew it, himself. Why deny it and try to hide like a rat? He wasn’t a cheater, he wasn’t a liar, and he certainly didn’t need them to weep over him, mock him, degrade him, and feed him sob stories about how it would all turn out for better soon if he just hung in there.

Fuck that.

Without the slightest bit of resistance, Gavin Reed admitted himself into the mental health and addictions rehab center on April 28th, 2040.

Moving into a new place had always been relatively ‘nice’, to say the least. The rehab center was more like one he’d learned about throughout history. The premise was rather large, and he’d gotten lost on the first day. As embarrassing as it was, Gavin had walked into a large dining hall reserved for all the staff members, and he’d kicked what little items and suitcases he’d been allowed to bring with himself across the floor in rage.

Eventually, once sent to his room, he memorized the paths and hallways. Narrow corridors weren’t things he avoided; he loved the darkness and the privacy the alcoves provided. According to the staff members who’d given him a stupid, retarded tour as per required for all new arrivals, no doubt, the facility had been built way back in 1989. It closed down in the late 1990s, and so rather than having the place standing there in the middle of nowhere, after 2025, a new owner purchased it and used it to house nutcases like Gavin.

How nice, how quaint.

The basement level was off limits…no shit. The main floor was where the kitchens, laundry rooms, dining halls, gaming rooms, meeting and board rooms, recreation rooms, as well as therapy rooms were all located. The second and third floors held all the rooms for patients, and the fourth and fifth floors were…yeah, off limits.

A separate bathhouse and large indoor pool for aquatic exercises and therapy looked nicer than the magazines made it out to be, at least. A large greenhouse, exotic garden filled with shit birds chirping their tails and dicks off could’ve been nice in the early summer, but Gavin thought it was nothing but annoying.

This wasn’t Disneyland, but they hadn’t exactly lied to him, anyway.

The food didn’t exactly suck, but he was certain that someone in the kitchen was either jerking off into his soup, or at least spitting into his ketchup. Who knew. They gave him chores…as if he was twelve or some shit. Scary.

Mondays, Gavin had to take out the trash. Tuesdays, he had to collect and do the laundry. Wednesdays, he had to clean the lunchroom and pools. Thursdays, he had to clean his own room thoroughly. And on Friday, he had his therapy sessions. Weekends were normally reserved for group therapy and then leisure time.

This was far worse than high school.

Why had he signed up?!

Feeling as though he’d been turned even crazier since his arrival, Gavin tracked down the days and weeks…at first. Tallying and marking it on his calendar soon grew beyond boring and dull. He was here for as long as he wanted, and for as long as the psychiatrists thought it was necessary. Why count? He was sure he would leave when he was good and ready…kinda.

At least here, no matter how much it sucked, he had free cable, free food, the rights to come and go as he pleased, the rights to jerk off into closets and in sock drawers without being judged. He could shower as he pleased, provided that someone was there to watch, sadly, so he put off jerking off into the tub for the time being, anyway. Here, people sang and hummed to tunes perhaps fauns kidnapping little children in the woods played on their fucking pan flutes, they danced in their minds, and they carried out full-blown conversations with themselves.

And no one judged them for it in the slightest. It was normal and part of the day, practically. In fact, he was positive that if someone in the place _didn’t_ act crazy, they would be targeted and soon kicked out. Being crazy and enjoying every second of it was all that he needed to have in order to stay here, and he loved it.

He could be lazy, he could be a pig, he could be someone’s bastard uncle who fondled himself while the ice-cream truck drove on by down the street. It didn’t matter. It was all acceptable, here, and it wasn’t even questioned in the slightest.

Sadly, there were parts here and there that Gavin hated with a burning passion.

Like taking pills.

That could fuck right off.

But he had to.

Once every other day, the less insane cuckoos of the facility had to take some prescribed medication. Gavin wasn’t an exception to that rule. He’d been prescribed Lurasidone at first, since it was widely used to treat certain mood disorders such as schizophrenia, and depression associated with bipolar disorder. Lurasidone was supposed to help him to think more clearly, feel less nervous, and take part in everyday life. It perhaps had to also help decrease hallucinations…not that he saw or heard shit.

In addition, the medication was supposed to improve his mood, sleep, appetite, and energy level. Well, it was _supposed_ to, but Gavin soon stopped giving a shit. Some days, he was sure he was taking other shit he wasn’t required to, such as Prozac, Zoloft, and a shit or piss laced bit of heroin…maybe?

The days blended and blurred into nothingness, but that soothed him. He was higher than a kite most of the time, and he was soon lying in all his therapy sessions just so he could extend his visit. It was more like a vacation for Gavin Reed. Here, he didn’t have to pay his rent, he didn’t have to pay car insurance, he didn’t have to do anything that was a part of being a grown adult anymore. He was frankly exhausted from that, and he was going to fight tooth, nail, and claw to stay here.

Yes, he found he wanted nothing more than to become a permanent resident in this mental health facility, and that was what he was going to do.

No one else seemed to mind him, and since he had a room all to himself, he was more than thrilled to listen to the radio, paint and color in the coloring books he’d been given. Other times, he would stare off into empty space or stay awake late at nights talking to his walls because they loved him and were solidly there for him always.

Such love. Such passion.

This place was a beautiful toilet bowl, and he had his head halfway down it in luxury and glee.

He was never going to leave, and he had no reason to…

…Until May 26th, 2040. On that day, Gavin Reed’s happy little paradise completely changed.

That was the day he gained a new roommate. Some dude who liked to call himself ‘Nameless’.

He wasn’t even a human.

Fuckin’ androids were all over the damn place, it seemed.


	2. Some Wishes are Poisonous

Fighting and bloodshed was kind of a norm in a mental institution. Sometimes, as peaceful as some days were, other times, it seemed as though a powerful explosive sharted out from the potent anus of Baldur himself had wreaked all havoc on earth. Gavin wasn’t sure what exactly and how exactly it’d happened, but one moment, he’d been playing hopscotch with himself along the halls outside his room, and then the next, a few nurses, security guards, and orderlies ran about screaming their heads off.

Like hungry vultures gathering around, many men and women of the facility gawked and tried getting the ‘insider’s scoop’ on whatever the actual butt-fuck had happened to draw in so many staff members down the hall on the second floor of the institution.

Gavin of course ran right after them, but he still thought highly enough about himself to not be in the same pile of ‘douche canoe’. He was merely an accessory in the midst of the drama, that’s all. An innocent bystander, at best.

In the middle of all the chaos, a nurse had gripped two men and a woman by their arms, ears, and possibly someone’s nose…or penis. Two of the three security guards ran around like chickens with their heads cut off, reeking a lot like a special blend between vomit and cat piss. One of the male orderlies struggled to inject one of the male patients with Thorazine to knock their over-excited ass out for a bit.

In that time, Gavin learned what’d happened. Someone had shot a bucket of urine across the hall at the half-open door of their neighboring room, and it’d spilled on the two men inside the room. Somehow, the woman got involved, and she’d tried to break off the tail end of a mop so she could-in her own words-‘shove it up their asses nice and proper.’

A regular day. There was no need to fuss.

People were such sissy fairy skanks with pink fire serving as their hair.

Shaking his head and muttering while he made the journey back to his secluded, amazing room when he’d grown bored of the stupidity, Gavin hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice someone else making their way towards him. Bashing his forehead into a chin, he leapt back while the other person held their sore area and moaned in discomfort and pain.

Rubbing his forehead and then scratching his back, Gavin glanced up and then winced.

“H-hey, Harry…”

This was of course the very _last_ person he needed to run into, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to disappear into thin air.

Harry Moresetti was an Italian-Jewish immigrant who’d been diagnosed with delusional thoughts and paranoia as per schizophrenia. Only a few years older than Gavin, he was thin, lanky, had tanned skin, and light blonde hair. His eyebrows were thick, bushy, dark brown, as were his eyes. He had a thin handlebar mustache excellent for a pornstar…from the seventies. His English wasn’t the best, which made Gavin laugh. He wasn’t exactly Gavin’s friend, either, but they stuck together on and off due to some of the funniest shit Harry said whenever he was super paranoid. Plus, he knew the place like Gavin knew his way between his ass and balls, so if he ever had a question, he went to Harry more often than he flocked to the damn nurses or the orderlies.

Mustache twitching in the nervous tick of a way it often did whenever he was onto something, Harry eyed the commotion still brewing about in the hall behind Gavin. Assessing the scene rather quickly, he soon leaned against the shorter man and whispered huskily, “Abigail…oh, poor Abby. What happo?”

Sighing when he felt his patience already wearing thin, Gavin muttered, “Nothing ‘happo’, Harry; Abby just wanted to seduce Jerry and Zach with the ass end of a mop handle. Nothin’ to see here.”

When he attempted to turn away and make a break for his room, he nearly screamed in anger when he caught two more of his less-than-favorite insane nutters flying at him.

Eyes wide in fear, Gavin felt he’d already ‘people managed’ plenty today, and he was at his limit. How was he supposed to take two more goons?!

The two idiots in question were a loving couple who’d been committed to the facility after their young daughter disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Keith and Beth Schreiber were two thirty-four-year-olds who’d moved from Germany to the USA after Keith’s software company lost to CyberLife’s aggressive development of androids. Due to the insane and popular leap in technology, Keith and his wife had moved to America in the hopes that they would be able to pursue their dream jobs while Beth finished her master’s degree. Somewhere in the length of it, their six-year-old daughter Bernice had disappeared after not getting off the school bus one day when her classes ended. It terrified both parents, naturally, and they both broke down over the two-year stretch of time battling with the FBI and Police into locating their missing daughter. Due to the high amounts of stress faced on a daily basis, Keith snapped and developed anger issues presenting themselves in Tourette’s Syndrome, while Beth developed manic depression and an eating disorder. She probably didn’t even weigh close to ninety-some-odd pounds, which was quite malnourished for her tall frame.

Her blonde hair and bright blue eyes were no longer lively and colorful. She’d cut most of her hair since being committed to the facility, and she appeared years older than when Gavin had first seen her. She’d lost more weight in the month he himself was here, and her husband didn’t look too well either. Keith had slightly darker blonde hair in comparison to his wife, and soft brown eyes, but they seemed angry, explosive, and he was even more short-tempered than Gavin was. His Tourette’s Syndrome gave him a lot of odd, nervous ticks that were rather…unfortunate, and not easy to understand. He would fart from his mouth while blinking rapidly for a few quick seconds, and of course, when angry, he would curse like a sailor and say the strangest things.

It wasn’t funny…but it was.

Gavin tried never to laugh at it, but it seemed impossible when Keith got stuck between farting from his mouth while trying to curse to hell and back. Usually, Harry would try to get Keith to snap out of it while also casting Gavin dirty looks for laughing.

What a riot.

Right now, a practically emaciated Beth leaned against her husband while he gently stroked her bony hands in his own. They were dressed as everyone else in the facility was required to for the first six months of their stay; all white uniforms, and on weekends, casual wear was permitted.

Appearing more ghostly and pale than ever, Beth hardly managed to summon up enough energy to blink while she stared at Gavin and Harry. “Good afternoon, you two,” she softly greeted with just a slight hint of a German accent lingering behind some words.

Gavin nodded, and Harry waved.

Eyeing the heavy windows on either side of the hall, Keith drawled deeply, “What’s going on, now?”

Gavin blurted, “Someone got fucked by a mop handle.”

Of course, he’d exaggerated, and Harry elbowed him in a light warning.

Keith’s eyes narrowed down behind Gavin at the scene still on-going. Cheeks turning red, he growled loudly, “Everyone takes advantage of everyone. That’s what I know for a fact happened to our little baby—BUTTHOLE FUCKING SHIT CUNT!!!” Eyelids twitching, his upper lip curled back, and he blew a long raspberry.

Appalled, his wife gently nudged him, desperately trying to get him to calm down before the situation got out of hand. “Sweetie, breathe…breathe with me…come on!” Waving her thin arms in the air, she chanted and hummed, “Oneeeee, twoooo, threeeee, breaaaatheeee…”

Nodding, Keith tried getting it together. Eyes closed tightly, he focused, and he inhaled deeply before exhaling slowly. Breaths in time with his spouse, he hummed, and the flush died down in his cheeks significantly.

Lifting a brow almost fiendishly, Gavin again was up to no good. Pointing behind himself, he blabbed foolishly, “I heard that one of the guys who had piss thrown on him was trying to do that breathing technique, and that’s what made Abby go nuts!! It don’t work!!”

Freaking out already, a ghoulish looking Beth hissed, “It’ll work!! I’ll make it work!!”

Panicking more so because his wife was, Keith gasped, “You m-mean what th-they said in therapy wasn’t real?! It’s all lies?! Just like how the FBI lied to me about our daughter?!?”

Shaking his head and butting in, Harry calmly stated, “Nooo, Schreibers!! You must stay fuck-oosed for the ther-apee to work!”

The way Harry had pronounced the word ‘focused’ nearly sent Gavin to the floor in a fit of potent giggles.

Dying to hear that word again, he gaped at the other man and gushed, “Waah? How focused should they be, Harry?”

“Eh wery, wery fuck-oosed! They must fuck-oos together!!”

That was it.

Knowing he was going to run the risk of laughing too hard before a panicked couple and an irate Italian, Gavin covered his mouth by gripping the center of his shirt in a hand, and bunched it up to shield half of his face while tucking it into his chest.

Observing him for a moment, Keith noted aggressively, “You know something th-that we don’t, Gavin!! You hold all the knowledge, I know you do! And I need you to tell me what they’re—SUCKING DOWN ON A STALLION’S DICK!!!”

“FUCK-OOOS!”

He made a run for it. Gavin tore away from the scene, fleeing like a criminal on the run. Giggling like mad on the way to his room, he made sure to grip the door handle to close it tightly. Locks weren’t allowed on doors, so he made do with whatever he could. Usually, he would try and prop up a chair beneath the door handle, but he’d already been dished out a warning for that from orderlies doing their usual hourly rounds to check for self-harmers or suicide attempts.

Balls.

While the raging and screaming echoed on outside his room like World War five, Gavin lay down on his bed, kicked his feet up, crossed his arms behind his head, and let out a relieved sigh. He knew he’d been the instigator for a lot of the commotion that had fired up again, but it was all he had in the way of entertainment. Who could blame him?! He was just having some fun, and there was nothing wrong with it in his mind.

If his days here were numbered, he figured he could use a laugh or two at someone’s expense!! Life was grand for Gavin Reed, right now, and he was going to enjoy it while he had the chance!

(|””><””|)

Beady blue-grey eyes gazed into his soul. Smoke billowed back and forth in the tiny, cramped office between Gavin Reed, and Satan himself.

…Otherwise known as Gavin’s psychiatrist, Dr. Carl Manfred.

The ancient dinosaur of a man with more wrinkles on his skin than Gavin’s dad’s balls had seemed to be more silent than the dead. It suited Gavin just fine, though; they could waste his designated personal hour this way every darn week!!! Who needed to sit and actually think? Who wanted to take the time to learn new things, process other shit, and get in touch with feelings?

Certainly not Gavin Reed.

Eyeing his cigarette in disgust, Dr. Manfred rubbing his nose with a small tissue. Clearing his throat, next, he muttered to himself, “I was a fool for allowing you to smoke in my office; it’s doing nothing for my lungs.”

Exhaling to the side, Gavin snorted. “It’s not doing shit for mine, either, but I appreciate your vote of confidence, Doc.”

Miffed by this, Dr. Manfred paused for a moment, irritation gently seeping into his pores and oozing out of his eyes. Squinting at Gavin, he growled, “How are things this week?”

Having been asked this question a million times already, Gavin only shrugged an insouciant shrug. “SSDD, Doc.”

“I beg your pardon??”

“Same Shit, Different Day.”

Humming in thought as if Gavin had taught him one of God’s age-old lessons, Dr. Manfred intoned slowly, as though testing his words one at a time. “Did you hear anything about the altercation that occurred near your room?”

Meeting his therapist’s eyes slowly, Gavin grinned confidently. “Yeah, someone apparently got feminized by a mop handle, Doc.” Wallowing in his smarminess, Gavin felt like he was sitting on top of the world. He knew he could be clever, and he was certain he would get away with it, too. Dr. Manfred looked beyond exhausted already, and it wasn’t even noon.

Job well done for Gavin; he was becoming more and more efficient in how quickly he could piss people off.

Drumming his fingers along the desk, Dr. Manfred snapped, “That’s not what I’m asking you, Gavin.” Shaking his head in disdain at the younger man, he affirmed, “I have it on good authority that you purposefully set Mr. Schreiber and his wife off when you knew how sensitive they both were.”

Rolling his eyes, Gavin flicked his cigarette ashes down onto a few roses perched on the edge of the desk in a fancy vase. Growling in annoyance, Dr. Manfred yanked the vase away, and shoved forward a proper ashtray.

Holding up a hand, Gavin retorted, “I was just tryin’ to lighten the mood, Doc. Calm down.”

“You knew what buttons of theirs to push!!” The psychiatrist was livid as he exploded, “Some of your behavior has been downright sociopathic, Gavin! I don’t know what to do with you!!”

Huffing, Gavin snapped testily, “Yeah, okay, boomer.”

Snapping his fingers at him as if he were a dog, Dr. Manfred reproached with anger and fire burning in his eyes. “This is what I’m referring to, Gavin. Your conduct is despicable, and it’s causing so much of an issue that I’m starting to wonder whether you were misdiagnosed.”

Puffing out thick clouds of smoke, Gavin scratched the back of his neck while thinking about it. Trying not to fry his brains, he asked, “What do you mean?”

Gazing quickly at his open laptop, Dr. Manfred replied, “Initially, I thought you were bipolar with greater emphasis on the depressive side of ‘lows’, Gavin…but I’m beginning to suspect this is now a classic case of antisocial personality disorder.”

Having taken a few psych courses in college and in his police academy, Gavin glared away at his therapist. Pointing at himself, he hissed thinly, “You sayin’ I’m a sociopath?”

Nodding slowly, Dr. Manfred answered, “Yes, but this is my personal theory. Until we go through some exercises and deep exams, we can’t say for certain, but right now, a lot of your actions are hitting off all the key warning signs.”

Sputtering in disbelief, Gavin snapped, “What actions?! I didn’t do shit!”

Pointing back at him in an accusatory manner, Dr. Manfred roared, “You lack empathy and remorse, Gavin! That’s a key indicator right there!”

“It was a harmless joke!” The younger man added, “Not like it was a _huge_ thing for Keith and Beth! Jesus!!”

Face turning beet red, Dr. Manfred retorted viciously, “Keith locked himself in the third-floor men’s restroom while trying to get in touch with the so-called spirit of Adolf Hitler, Gavin! It took nearly five security guards to pull him out of there, and by the time they did, he flung feces at them all!! Do you _not_ feel sorry for him?!”

Waving him off as he inhaled tobacco, Gavin proudly replied, “Nah, nothin’ wrong with a man tryin’ to get in touch with his history and ancestors.”

“Gavin,” his therapist warned, “I can’t deal with this all the time, you know.”

Smiling innocently, Gavin offered in sarcasm, “Retirement’s totally an option then, Doc!!”

Skirting past the stupidity and games, the older man sat back in his black, leather chair and remained silent for over a minute. The clock ticking up on the wall annoyed Gavin more than it should’ve, and he decided it was high time to leave while he could.

Putting out his cigarette, he sighed, “Well, Doc, it was nice chattin’ and catchin’ up, but I gotta get goin’—”

“Sit down, Gavin.”

“But—”

Pointing at the clock, Dr. Manfred growled impatiently, “We’ve got another three minutes, and I want to say one thing to you before you flee.”

Deciding to give in before the man caused him too much grief, Gavin remained seated. “You’re the boss, Doc,” he played along, grinning pleasantly and folding his arms in his lap.

Mimicking his open and relaxed demeanor, Dr. Manfred didn’t exactly smile, but he seemed to be…thinking of something. His eyes twinkled, and Gavin knew his therapist well enough to know when the crusty gears were turning.

Swallowing, he demanded, “What?”

Chair squeaking as he leaned into it, Dr. Manfred sighed almost happily. “How do you feel about a roommate, Gavin?”

Not even hesitating for a moment, Gavin spat dryly, “I’d rather chop off my own cock, thanks.”

“Splendid!!” Gesturing at the ceiling, Dr. Manfred announced, “He’s a silent type, and he’ll be here later tonight. I’m sure it’ll be quite interesting for you, Gavin.”

It was already set in stone with how he’d spoken, and Gavin stopped breathing for a moment. A roommate meant no privacy anymore, no privileges to do as he pleased, a pair of eyes and ears constantly open and on him, and just a nuisance hanging off his shoulder like a wart on someone’s nose.

No.

“No!” He voiced his thoughts aloud, sitting up in his seat stiffly. Gripping the armrests, he screamed, “I’m not accepting that!”

Shrugging, Dr. Manfred said, “It’s too late for that, Gavin. He’s on the way, now, and he’s assigned to your room.”

“Place him someplace else, Doc!” Gavin argued back vehemently, “It’s not like this shithole is tiny!!”

Shaking his head firmly, indicating that the decision had already been made, Dr. Manfred already began typing away at his keyboard. “I’m sorry, Gavin,” he began in the least sorry tone of voice Gavin had ever heard. “I’m not the one who makes all these decisions, and frankly, everyone else in the facility has a roommate except for yourself. Your luck had to run out sooner or later.”

Begging and pleading on his last nerve, Gavin’s eyes filled with small tears as he whined, “Nooo! Doc! Come on, man!! I swear I’ll stop fuckin’ around, and I promise I’ll—”

Shooing him, Dr. Manfred snapped irritably, “It’s useless to even argue, Gavin! You can’t convince me; you’re _going_ to have a roommate, and that’s just how it is, so quit your complaining!!” With that uttered, he turned to his laptop, working with serious dedication Gavin hadn’t seen in a while.

He was done talking.

Weakly, Gavin stood up, knees feeling as though they would cave in like jelly. He couldn’t breathe again, and he nearly crashed into furniture in the office. Somehow, he made the way to the closed door. Once there, he turned around partly, and he stared at Dr. Manfred. The man sternly pointed at the old door, and Gavin knew what he had to do.

Time to fuck off and pray that this new roommate wasn’t going to be a drooling idiot, a jackass, a perverted rapist, or some kind of sicko.

Making his way back to his room, Gavin was now _really_ second guessing how lovely life was in Detroit Mental Health and Addictions Awareness Rehab Center.


	3. Movers and Shakers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music in this chapter belongs to The Ink Spots. Have a listen, it's a relaxing song in my opinion:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UC_VzbtRGr0  
> Can anyone spot my 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest' reference ;)

“Hey, G-Gavin, w-w-wanna p-play c-c-cards with u-us?”

Cracking his knuckles while imagining he was cracking Dr. Carl Manfred’s neck instead, Gavin hardly glanced over at one of the younger patients named Billy P. Bibbit. The young lad wasn’t altogether a nasty person to be around, if you could get over his major s-s-s-stuttering p-problem. Billy often kept to himself due to his insane levels of introversion, however, he was improving a lot lately around Gavin and a few of the other younger patients he found to hung out with. It seemed that as long as there were people of his own age to be around, the curly-haired brunette with light blue eyes was content.

Something had happened to him in his childhood, and Gavin had seriously no idea why Billy was even here in the facility. He wasn’t abnormal in any way, and he didn’t appear to have any mental health issue. From what he heard, Billy’s diagnosis constantly changed every other month or so whenever he had his one-on-one sessions with Dr. Manfred. One month, Billy was supposedly living with borderline personality disorder. Another time, rumors had floated about that he was histrionic, and had Munchausen syndrome. It constantly changed, which disgusted Gavin more than anything else.

This was all foolishness on Dr. Manfred’s part, and a few of the other psychiatry students who visited the center during the summer because they were working on their residency weren’t any brighter or more brilliant. They had about as much to offer as a crotchless pair of Ken and Barbie dolls, and that was as good as it was going to get.

If Billy was left alone to hang out with his friend Tyler Krauser, a bald-headed youth from California who was supposedly living with severe bipolar disorder, then things weren’t so bad. As messed up as they both were, the two twenty-four-year-olds seemed to be able to piece things together enough. Even though it was all fractured and slightly tumultuous, as long as they were happy with it like two drunken sailors giving each other secret hand jobs below deck at night only to blame it on mermaids and sirens influencing them to do it the next morning, then who was Gavin to judge?

A small radio sat on the glass table Billy and Tyler were playing cards on, while Gavin sat at a long bench not too far away from them. They were outside in the front yard of the mental health facility, as were a lot of patients to enjoy the early evening sun. Things were bright enough due to the season, and the grass had been freshly cut. It smelled pretty lovely, as Gavin had always enjoyed the smell of freshly cut grass.

Majority of the orderlies took advantage of this lovely weather to smoke in slightly secluded corners outside, hiding behind statues, water fountains, large hedges, or trees. No one seemed to care, and a lot of the patients were engaged in games and activities that kept them busy and forgetful of their problems for the time being. Frisbees were tossed back and forth through the air, with the ghostly patients dressed in all-white bounding after them. Scattered throughout the front yard close to the brick walls of the facility were more round tables like the one Billy and Tyler sat at. Other patients read books and magazines while sitting down, some had tea and coffee if permitted, while others just sat and stared on at the bright sky and basked in the gentle heat.

Gardeners allowed some of the more artistic or creative ones help them shift soil about far beyond in the garden and flowerbeds. Lovely plants and bushes were arranged and lined up the paths, while little birds and bees swarmed around thick, large trees. An abandoned swing set swung on its own beyond a large water fountain, more for décor than to be swung on. Three patients stood gathered before a medium-sized ‘wishing well’ a few feet past where the Frisbee players engaged in their fun, gaping down at the deep dark well while muttering to themselves.

The clouds and the sun danced back and forth in the sky both visually and mentally for Gavin, taunting him with the pressure of ‘time’. According to Dr. Manfred, his new roommate was going to be arriving, soon. The seconds ticked by, and Gavin felt his stomach recoiling while he groaned in anguish.

The sound caught Billy’s attention, and he peered up at him with a confused gleam in his eyes. “Wh-what’s w-w-wrong, Gavin?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Gavin shifted and used the old bricks behind himself to scratch away at his skin feverishly. He wasn’t exactly itchy, but he was certainly uncomfortable the more he thought about his new roommate. “I’m gettin’ a new roomie, apparently,” he grunted out to the two young men sitting close to himself. “It blows harder than any hooker I’ve ever been with, and I want to just…just…” Releasing a frustrated sigh, he leaned back against the wall and shook his head. “Don’t know, man. I fuckin’ hate it.”

Tyler stared at his cards before replying swiftly, “Everyone has a roommate here, Gavin. You couldn’t get away with not having one for that long, you know.”

Stating the obvious annoyed the shit out of him, but Gavin only growled his annoyance like a caveman. “I get it, but can’t the guy go somewhere else?” Laughing dryly, he expounded, “Hell, even the music or art room has a bed, so why can’t he go there instead of bein’ stuck with me?”

Billy shrugged while Tyler reached for another card from the pile. The stuttering young man smiled pleasantly as he offered, “Y-you m-may f-f-find y-yourself becom-ming f-friends with h-him, Gavin. Too s-s-soon to judge.”

“Not true,” Gavin spat back, “I’ll always hate this son of a bitch, and it doesn’t matter whether or not I’ve even seen his fuckin’ ugly face.”

Laughing cruelly, Tyler replied, “Yeah, he could be some burn victim for all you know with all this flesh hanging off his face, and maybe they used like, the foreskin of his dick or something as skin grafts! Ha!!”

Not amused, Billy shook his head, but that only encouraged Gavin to add on to Tyler’s crude humor.

Chuckling, he barked out loudly, “You’re right!! Or he could just be this ‘Buffalo Bill’ freak type who has to put on makeup and other people’s skin because he’s so disgustingly hideous that it makes even DeadPool look like he’s worthy-sooo worthy-to have his face licked.”

Blinking over at the edge of the front yard and parking lot, Billy quickly looked away before shaking his head in disagreement. “H-he’s n-n-not anyth-thing like th-that.”

Suspicious upon hearing this, Gavin hissed a sibilant hiss akin to that of a snake about to attack its prey. “Really? How the hell do you know that, Billy?”

Eyes shifty and slightly apprehensive, the youth whispered, “Because h-he’s r-r-right there…”

Head and neck snapping up to attention, Gavin glared across the front yard, and then his jaw dropped. The very first thing that met his inquisitive eyes was not a plain, normal forehead on any damn human being. Nothing was normal about this new dude, Gavin quickly collected in his jumbled thoughts. For one, the bastard was freakishly tall, with stone cold eyes, a dead, lifeless face, and long limbs. His face betrayed nothing about himself, but those cold cobalt eyes as frozen as the blue LED light bleeding into the evening atmosphere was enough to send Gavin into a vicious frenzy of sheer madness and anger.

This wasn’t a person; it was an android.

He was going to have an android as a fucking roommate.

Hell on Earth was seriously a true concept, after all.

(|””><””|)

Gavin very quickly discovered that a lot of bat-shit-insane women (and some of the men) would voice that they could be willing to bang anything, even stoic, taciturn jackass walking mountains of bolts, wires, and thirium masses that made up damn androids.

But not Gavin. He hated androids. Ever since Connor had been introduced to the DPD, Gavin knew he hated the lousy worm, and that was never going to change. Connor of course tried to make a lasting, positive impression, but that was a failed effort. The more he tried, the more Gavin hated him, and that was that. He tried putting the android down whenever he got the chance, and he even lashed out physically.

Well, as much as that had worked on the stupid RK800 initially, Gavin didn’t dare want to mess with this current android pimp walking up and down the front hall and foyer while waiting to have his items moved into Gavin’s room.

This android looked somewhat like Connor, eerily. The hair color and tinge were the exact same, the length and cut was the same, and that similar, damn loose bang hung limply like a unicorn’s spent cock over his forehead. This android however had blue eyes, and light freckles dancing up and down his shapely cheekbones. His face was more angular and rigid, and he seemed genuinely more pissed. His mannerisms were rather aggressive and chopped, and his jawline was firm and prominent.

Someone could probably be able to slice fruit over that damn jaw…

And the younger women went crazy over it. They crowded around the android, giggling and poking him while blushing beet red. It was nothing short of disgusting and nauseating to Gavin, and he wondered just how far they were going to take it. Would they bend down and suck the android’s dick (if he had one) at the snap of his fingers?!?

Desperate women these days. Shame.

….

Wait…did androids even have dicks? Were they mechanical dicks kind of like mechanical pencils he used way back in math classes? Did their dicks have lead in them? Thirium? Tears of abandoned orphans? Were they crotchless like dolls? Was there _anything_ in the way of scholarly articles or research he could get his hands on in order to gain more in-depth knowledge about android penises?

The horde of noisy patients soon scattered marginally to make way for Dr. Carl Manfred. Emerging from his office, he straightened the collar of his brown plaid suit before making his way towards the android. Stopping right in front of him with barely three inches between them, he smiled and held out his hand.

“Welcome! I’m Dr. Carl Manfred, and I’ll be your psychiatrist during your stay here at Detroit Mental Health and Addictions Awareness Rehab Center.”

Awkwardly, the android’s eyes fell to the human’s hand, but he didn’t even return the gesture. It was completely silent for a minute, and then someone whispered, “Maybe he’s retarded?”

Ignoring that, Dr. Manfred cleared his throat awkwardly. “So,” he began while a few orderlies pushed back eager patients trying to poke and touch the tall android. “What do you call yourself?”

Introductions apparently were important, but if this android had a name, it didn’t appear to be anything regular. Tilting his head strangely down at the shorter man, he barely whispered, “Nameless.”

….

Everyone broke out into susurrus weighing heavily on morbid curiosity and judgement far too soon. The android dressed from head to toe in black clothing hadn’t even been inside the facility for a few minutes, and Gavin knew that already, a lot of people were rather hesitant to talk to him. He had an air of attitude about himself that was probably narcissistic, and a clear monument to solipsism. How could he blame his fellow nutbars? This android was beyond vain, and it was disgusting. How could anyone stand him?!

Why was he even here, again?!??

Eyebrows flying up, Dr. Manfred repeated, “Nameless? That’s…that’s your name? Title?”

The android didn’t need to nod. The look in his eyes communicated that yes, this was his name. Lips hardly moving, he explained, “I’m nothing and no one to anyone, I’m whatever I wish to be, whatever you think of me, and that’s the way things are.”

….

Unable to fight back the frustration and discomfort mounting in his veins, Dr. Manfred drawled, “Err, right, but this is something we normally talk about in therapy, Nameless…sounds good?”

There was again a pregnant pause where Nameless-or whatever the fuck his name was-didn’t speak. He just stared on blankly until Dr. Manfred clapped his hands loudly together and nodded over at Keith and Beth.

“Keith! Beth!” he called out to them, “would you two be so kind as to help _Nameless_ here carry some of his stuff upstairs to Gavin’s room?”

Already eager to help, Beth collected the android’s dark peacoat, while Keith grabbed one of his suitcases. Nodding happily at Nameless, he pointed up the large staircase looming a few feet behind the vast decorations in the front hall.

“Come on!” he chirruped excitedly, “it won’t too long before you—BUTTFUCKING ASS JESUS!!!!!” Blowing a long, loud raspberry that ensured spit to drizzle out the right corner of his mouth, he twitched and nearly dropped the suitcase.

“Wonderful of you to be so helpful, Keith!” Dr. Manfred cried out pleasantly, leaving the skeletal Beth and the twitchy Keith to lead the android up the steps as best as they could. A few other patients followed, still hungry enough for anything in the way of excitement. This was probably all they were going to get for the rest of the bland day, but it annoyed Gavin.

Stepping forward, he accidentally knocked into Billy. The young man leapt back meekly before timorously stuttering, “G-Gavin, h-h-he’s n-n-not—

Gripping him by the shoulders firmly, Gavin dissimulated under the watchful eyes of the nurses and a few orderlies observing them before gently escorting the more disturbed, dependent patients back to their rooms. “Get outta my way, kid; you’re wastin’ my breath.” Winking at Billy, he abandoned the youth and fled up the steps, hurrying to catch up with the Schreibers as they guided Nameless into Gavin’s room.

It didn’t take him too long to join them, thankfully, but that was the least of his worries. Once Beth and Keith set out the android’s items and left the room to make it in time for supper, Gavin waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps down the hall. Slamming the door to the room tightly, he sauntered over to where Nameless stood. The awkward android hung out in the corner near Gavin’s closet, his suitcases on either side of his body, and his coat already draped over the foot of Gavin’s bed.

Not cool.

Snatching up the soft coat immediately, Gavin flung it as hard as could over the android’s burly shoulder. “Never, _ever_ put your shit on my bed, got it?!” Fury hung in the shadows of his eyes, and he felt himself grinding his teeth together in irritation. Chin jutting forth, he added, “There’s only one bed here, by the way, and you can guess who it belongs to.”

The silence practically slapped him. Nameless merely stared on blankly, hardly even moving while his arms hung loosely at his sides. Heck, the odd ticking and certain groaning of pipes and plumbing in the walls and ceilings were louder than this… _thing_.

Infuriated that Nameless hadn’t answered him, Gavin roared from the bottom of his lungs, “THIS IS MY BED!!” Again, since Nameless had yet to utter a word, Gavin pressed on, “You may be wondering where you sleep, _if_ that’s what you bastards even can do, but I’ll let you in on a tiny secret…”

Nameless gazed down at him, LED light barely even spinning. Among the boring silence, Gavin cupped a hand over the android’s left ear, and he leaned up on his toes. Lowering his voice for dramatic flair, he whispered, “You can sleep in the closet, in the tub, or in a pedophile’s picnic basket for all I care; my bed is mine, and you stay awwwaaaayyy.”

Standing back, Gavin glowered at the android. He’d seriously expected for Nameless to lash out, to scream at him, or for at least his fucking LED light to turn red. However, none of those things happened; Nameless was as calm and tranquil as a mountain in Japan.

Once again studying him from head to toe, Gavin could help but ask, “So what’s your deal, anyway?”

Barely meeting his eyes, Nameless didn’t say a word. Instead, there was only a small hint of what could’ve perhaps been the beginning of a response, but then it disappeared as quickly as it’d arrived. Everyone in the institution could’ve begged and pleaded for Nameless to respond in any way, but it would never work. This silent creature was set on just remaining that; _silent_.

He probably didn’t even feel things.

Waving a hand in his face, Gavin rasped, “Yooo, earth to cock nugget, here! Yello?!?!”

…..

Of course, more silence. Silence by the heap.

But that didn’t set off or disparage a stubborn Gavin Reed in the slightest. Since he’d been one heck of a recalcitrant, obstinate cop and detective, he wasn’t going to back down. Plus, he was already beyond suspicious. As far as he was concerned, yes, androids could turn deviant. Yes, some could be caring, loyal, blah, blah, blah, his ass itched. But what the hell was an android doing in a psych ward?? They didn’t have the same imperfections as people did! They didn’t go mental or want to fuck trees while rubbing peanut butter on their chests!

This was either a set-up, a scam, or something in the way of an experiment Dr. Manfred had no doubt pulled out of his anus to watch him closely or some shit to that effect.

Perfect. Now that he’d ‘sniffed’ it out, he was even angrier. Why did he need a babysitter, if that’s what Nameless’ purpose was, here? He could take care of himself! He was a big boy!!

Feeling putrid, white-hot anger flashing before his eyes, Gavin irritably snapped, “I guess he told you not to talk to me either, huh?” Clapping his hands together, he went on, “Juuuust my fuckin’ luck. My therapist is more messed up than I am, and he puts a damn android in my room to watch me…” Smirking, he teased, “Just so you know, I only jack off every Friday after midnight, by the way.”

Not even put off in the slightest by the crude, foul language and all the implications, Nameless shifted backwards. Just when Gavin thought he’d won over and dominated the android for whatever it was worth (to establish his territory without pissing all over furniture and items like a dog), the android glanced at the door.

Without even raising his voice half a decibel, he stated coldly, “Supper time.”

Supper time?!?! _Supper time?!?!_ That’s _all_ Nameless had to say?!?

Darting quickly before the android, Gavin stood his ground and glared into Nameless’ blue depths. “What kind of a symposium of insanity and depravity is up with you?!” Nodding back over his shoulder at the door, he expounded, “You wanna just leave? Fine. Leave. But don’t you dare try to ‘mother’ me or some shit, because if you do, you’ll find whatever the fuck is inside your system _outside_ of it, catch my drift?!?”

Though the quiet persisted between them, Nameless almost blinked. Good enough. Gavin counted that for a ‘yes’. It was probably the best in the way of a response, and he wasn’t a dumbass to push his luck. He was already wasting time up here with a mute, retarded android.

Or broken…yeah, it was likely broken…maybe that’s why it was here, anyway. After all, landfills and garbage dumps were probably filled to the very brim with androids and their…parts…there was no room for Nameless, so they dumped him here. Fair enough. It could be a sad story, but last time Gavin heard, Dr. Phil had retired and was probably in an old fuck home like a lot of the senior citizens in many countries.

Yeah…Phil couldn’t help, so why should anyone else?

Deciding to ‘join the crew’ and finally have something to eat for the night, Gavin ignored Nameless, walking past him and down the steps. Taking two at a time, he flew down them quickly, hardly noticing the minor look of concern Nameless cast at his turned back.

(|””><””|)

Supper tonight in the large dining hall (it wasn’t as big as the dining hall for staff members…poop) was roasted chicken, some side dish of spaghetti with salad as dry as a desert, macaroni and cheese, and ice cream for dessert. Somewhat positive that it wasn’t exactly ‘healthy’ for the patients who also had heart problems, diabetes, and high blood sugar or cholesterol, Gavin didn’t touch the desserts and candies, nor did he really indulge in the macaroni and cheese. It pleased the patients with severe ADD and hysteria, and they giggled at it while smearing it all over their chins and necks.

Sexy stuff.

Usually, things were civil and panned out pleasantly enough at supper time, and it was only due to the fact that the orderlies were watching closely as they paced about the long rows of tables. More than anything else, it was clear that even ‘nutters’ had to eat, and when they had a pretty strong appetite, nothing else mattered. Sure, a few of the more ‘delusional’ patients still sat about talking to their plates, utensils, or food, while others whispered under their breaths anytime an orderly passed by. Thankfully, no one lost control, and as soon as majority of the residents of the facility swept in, dining began at everyone’s own pace.

The seating arrangements were as they always had been for months on end; the more ‘violent’ and aggressive patients usually were either guarded, strapped to their chairs tightly, or spoon-fed by nurses so as to not injure themselves or others by using the sharper utensils. The patients with an eating disorder sat together, usually glaring down at the salads and soups while hiding away the rest of their meals in portions and bits in small napkins, perhaps to later binge eat, or toss it away into the trash. The younger patients like Billy and Tyler often hung out with each other and sat perched together, while the elderly patients sucked down their meals and drinks extra slowly and carefully.

Gavin usually sat between Harry and another incredibly short man roughly in his late thirties named Isaac. Gavin had no idea what the hell Isaac’s last name was, nor did he know where the man was from, originally. He didn’t care much, not when Isaac and Harry sometimes fought over ridiculous things like who would use the saltshaker first, who would often use the most napkins, who ate the loudest, who chewed the slowest. It was hilarity at its finest, and usually Gavin enjoyed it…but this evening, he wasn’t.

It was all starting off poorly. Surprisingly, Harry and Isaac were on ‘friendly’ terms, and they chose to sit right beside each other as opposed to on either side of Gavin. They were to his right, and on his left sat the new android…Nameless. Directly across from Gavin were Keith and his underweight wife, Beth. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Gavin remained certain that the lemonade tasted a lot like piss, and he spat it back into his cup once barely taking a sip. It reeked, and it tasted quite bitter.

Gross.

As it drizzled down off his chin and onto his white uniform, Nameless stared at him in silence. Catching on to the odd looks he’d been given, a very irate Gavin turned to the android and snapped shortly. “The fuck are you starin’ at, freak?!”

As usual, Nameless didn’t utter a single breath or word. It seemed he didn’t need to, even if he’d wanted to. Beth and Keith were making an awful lot of noise. Keith had collected and dragged around with himself practically everywhere he went a small portable CD player. Gavin hadn’t seen one since he was barely eleven, and as he stared at the object in disgust, Beth and Keith selected a ‘romantic’ track and sang along to it.

This was the routine every few days or so; they would clasp hands over the surface of the table, with the CD player dancing along with the song ‘ _If I Didn’t Care’_ performed by _The Ink Spots._ It was older type of music, which Gavin despised more than anything else. The notes and tune rising up in the air and billowing about into his ears were hazy, grating, grainy, and haunting.

He couldn’t stand it, but Keith and Beth claimed it was the song that had been playing when Keith proposed to his wife, for one, and when they learned they were expecting a new baby, it also played on the fucking radio. Naturally, it held a lot in the way of ‘memory’ for them, or some disturbing, sensitive shit to that damn effect.

Fucking vomit.

“If I didn’t care more than words can say,

If I didn’t care, would I feel this way?

If this isn’t love, then why do I thrill?” Beth’s voice was low, and her husband’s soon rose above hers while he leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes, clearly enjoying their closeness.

“And what makes my head go ‘round and ‘round,

While my heart stands still?

If I didn’t care, would it be the same?

Would my every prayer begin and end with just your name?”

Glaring at them, Gavin waved his spoon about in the air as he snapped irritably, “Keith, weren’t you supposed to be locked up in solitary for sharing your shit with the security guards not even four hours back?”

A heated scowl came his way from both Beth and Keith.

Snickering to himself, Gavin eyed his mostly untouched meal. Head hanging low, he muttered more to himself, “This gruel tastes like ass today…” Glancing up, he caught Nameless eyeing him blandly. Nothing was given away in that blank, white face, but Gavin got the strong notion that Nameless was ‘judging’ and analyzing him in his own androidish way…

Feeling defensive immediately, he barked out brutally, “Don’t you fuckin’ observe me like that, else I’ll yank out all your wires through your asshole!!!”

That imagery made him giggle.

Unfortunately, his fun and games were cut short when Beth and Keith sang on particularly loudly, like a bunch of cats mewling in heat behind an apartment building. “And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare? Would all this be true if I didn’t care for you?”

The music continued on, doing another repeat loop. Gavin glared around the dining hall and saw a few patients suffering from Down Syndrome reject their meals, spit at the nurses, and rock back and forth wildly in their chairs. The lights suddenly burned into the top of his skull, almost as though it were the sun itself beating down on him. Scratching at the back of his head gently, he played with his food for a moment while Nameless simply stared without blinking at the empty spot before himself.

Of course, since androids didn’t need to eat (duh) there were no plates or utensils in front of Nameless. Just some empty space, probably matching the empty space floating around in his head, no doubt.

Harry leaned into Gavin, suddenly, catching the short ex-detective off guard. Pointing at his untouched noodles and sauce, Harry rasped, “Something wrong, Gavin? You eh not hungry?”

Shrugging, Gavin rubbed his nose and lips crudely with the back of a hand. “Nah, not when a few reject members from the musical ‘ _Cats_ ’ are sitting right in front of me and givin’ the performance that got them kicked outta production.”

Eyeing him in heavy confusion due to the language barrier and cultural one, Harry’s mustache twitched. “Eh gatto? Why you talk of gatto, Gavin?”

Pressing his hands down on his ears when the notes were too shrill, Gavin seethed between tightly clenched teeth, “Gaah! Can’t stand another second of this shit!!”

“Waaah? Vat sheet?”

Normally, he would’ve laughed at Harry, but for now, shutting off the damn music was his top prerogative. Rising off his seat, he paced around to the other end of the table, and as his arms reached out for the portable CD player, he aimed his fingers for the ‘eject’ button. Slamming down on it roughly, the CD popped out at once, and then crashed and rolled down beneath the long, rectangular table.

“If I didn’t care more than words can say? If I didn’t care, would I feel this way? If—hey!!” It’d taken a few moments for both Schreibers to notice that the music had ended well before time, and they glanced down at their portable CD player that was now without a CD inside it.

Keith turned beet red in the face, twitching and then sneezing once. Wiping his noise furiously, his eyes threw promises of sweet homicide while Gavin turned and made his way back to his own seat. Sneezing once again and then emitting a tiny fart from the right corner of his mouth, Keith roared in uncontrollable rage, “The scheissekopf is wrong with you?!”

Beth also hissed out in German, “Arschloch!!”

Gavin rolled his eyes. He didn’t even understand why they bothered with German curse words when he already had learned all the swear words for at least eight different languages. He was so damn resourceful.

Flipping off both wife and husband rudely, he bit back, “Fatass!” That particular jab had been reserved especially for Beth, and due to her eating disorder, Gavin knew exactly what buttons and strings to push and pull in order to gain a reaction out of her.

Studying her with a resound smirk upon his already smug face, he settled down comfortably in his seat. Harry roughly elbowed him while growling sternly, “Gavin! No need to be a beech!!”

Beth placed a hand on her sharp, prominent cheekbones, clearly examining them before she turned to whimper at her husband. “Am I fat?!?”

He shook his head and cooed, “Nooo, my little engel, you are perfect!!”

Throwing her head back, she wailed, “You’re j-just saying th-that because you’re my h-husband!! I’ve put on weight!! I can tell!!! I can feel it!!! NOOOO!!!”

Amused, Gavin finally felt he could sit and enjoy his food to his heart’s content, now. He had dinner, and his show, and he was more than pleased. For the rest of the evening, Harry tried consoling both Keith and Beth, hushing them while Beth cried and wailed louder and louder, eventually drawing attention unto herself from the orderlies. They carried her away while her husband swore at them all in a blend of German and English, farting and twitching and even spitting once in a while.

It was priceless. It was genius. It was fucking perfect.

Helping himself to another round of noodles and sauce, Gavin munched happily on his meal, ignoring the blatantly obvious way in which Nameless was studying him. He found that if he looked even on an accidental whim in the odd android’s direction, the blank-yet judgmental-eyes that traced their way around his own visage was far too much to handle for now.

Ignoring was what he did best, anyway.

* * *

In case you didn't get the reference, 'Billy Bibbit' was a character in the novel and movie adaptation of 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest' by Ken Kesey. If you haven't read the book or seen the film, PLEASE try to do so. I swear, it's well worth it, and a lot of notable actors like Christopher Lloyd and Jack Nicholson did a very good job in it.


	4. The Beautiful People

Gavin despised Mondays. Not because he had to go to school after a wonderful weekend as a child, and certainly not because as an adult, Mondays meant he had to go back to work and face another dull week ahead. Sure. That all sucked deeper and harder than a Hungarian porn star, no doubt. That was the least of his worries, and as much as Gavin Reed thought he would escape those worries like he escaped a bad case of ass rash, he never got too far before reality smacked him right in the dick. Even in a madhouse, he’d come to loathe Mondays, and only due to one simple fact:

Group therapy happened on Mondays.

The groups were divided up into a maximum of ten people per group, so as to gain the best results and the most ‘highly quality therapy’ from small group communication. Gavin supposed that beyond that shit, whatever the flying fuck it all meant, it was a cover-up for the psychiatric graduate students, as well as for Dr. Manfred. Who could blame the guy, though? Handling one psycho was more than plenty for Gavin, let alone managing ten others.

Fuck that.

Well, in any event, handling psychos wasn’t for him, and he supposed that was why he’d chosen a different career altogether. Plus, it was just more fun shooting people, among other things.

The groups sometimes changed in order to increase the likelihood of getting more of the introverts like Billy and a few others to get over their insecurities, fears, and social anxiety. Gavin wasn’t an expert in mental health, (actually, come to think of it, he wasn’t an expert in anything except eating, over-sleeping, smoking two packs of cigs a day, and swearing at people) but he didn’t think this method was working for anyone. No one really adjusted well to change, here, and since it wasn’t a part of the set ‘repertoire’, Gavin avoided it. If ever new people were introduced to the group, he wouldn’t talk a lot to them. For the most part, he just sat with his mouth sealed shut, allowing Dr. Manfred and whoever the psychiatry grad student of the month observing them and making notes was to do their ‘thing’. 

After employing that method for a few weeks, he discovered that it made the two hours of group therapy a lot less painful.

Today, the chairs were all stacked in the usual circle as they had been all other Mondays, and Gavin found himself sitting next to Billy. While the youth twitched irritably next to Gavin, on his other side sat Debbie, a neurotic, but otherwise pleasant woman to be around…until the pathological lies and storytelling got out of hand. Debbie Schwimmer was a cheerful, jovial woman, round and sometimes reminiscent of Santa Claus’ wife. Her hair was cut short, curly, and light brown in color. She wore thick, heavy-rimmed glasses, had a sweet, sweet laugh, told funny jokes, and seemed to genuinely be in a pleasant mood for the most part. Gavin had wondered truly what she’d gone through and done that landed her in such a place, and when he’d asked, she quickly revealed to him that she’d tried murdering her husband and two young children almost ten years ago because voices in her head told her that her family had been kidnapped and replaced by body-snatching aliens.

Aaaaaaaand thus, he knew precisely why she’d been a resident here. If anything, her stories truly fascinated a lot of people when they listened to them. Gavin had heard it all for a month and a half, now. Debbie had been a part of MI6, she’d gone through MK Ultra tests, she’d had an affair with Brad Pitt and James Bond, resulting in children being born out of the sexual relationship with both men, but Hollywood’s top agents had forced her to get rid of the babies and cover up the affairs. Debbie had been food poisoned by J.F. Kennedy’s body double, she knew where doctors were hiding the cure for cancer, and she knew that solutions to world hunger lay with the Russians and Chinese.

Debbie was fucking amazing.

Unfortunately, Dr. Manfred wasn’t in the mood to entertain her ‘stories’ today. He seemed to be in ever the grumpy mood, and so much that he forced Debbie to move and sit beside himself, causing her to swap seats with Nameless.

Internally, Gavin was already groaning and throwing a fit. Not Nameless!! Anyone could sit next to him! ANYONE! Not this robotic freak!! There were ten people here in the group!! Why did Nameless have to sit next to him, for crying out loud!!

When he raised his hand to gently ask such a thing, Dr. Manfred glared at him. “Put your hand down at once, Gavin!” Only when Gavin flung his arm down to his side did Dr. Manfred continue. Raising his notebook, he pointed at the young girl no older than twenty-eight tops seated next to himself.

“Everyone, I’d like to introduce Janice Gordan; she’s our newest psychology graduate student, and she’s conducting her thesis research for her presentation and oral defense for the University of Michigan. She will be conducting today’s group therapy, and I expect _everyone_ not to give her a difficult time!” Eyes narrowing and casting death glares at Gavin especially, he concluded, “Give her an opportunity, here, and I’ll appreciate it as well.”

…..

Silence hung in the room, and Keith twitched, but otherwise remained silent.

Dr. Manfred nodded. “Good. Without anything else, I’ll help get Janice caught up from our last session.” Turning his neck to smile fondly at her, he stated openly, “Last Monday, Janice, we were discussing the topic of Billy’s strong aversion and fear regarding asking out girls his own age. He has a lot of insecurities around women, majority of it which I believe stems a lot from his own treatment by his mother when he was growing up, and—”

While he blabbed on and on, Gavin caught Billy’s entire face practically on fire, no doubt from shame and embarrassment grained from being singled out among the group. Three bodies over to Billy’s right, Gavin saw Harry playing with his mustache, twisting and turning the ‘handlebars’ because he was no doubt bored. Across from Harry, there sat an almost morbidly obese woman nearing her forties named Wendy Artec. No one really knew too much about Wendy, other than the fact that she loved to eat…and eat, and eat, and bloat herself up into looking like a whale. Even right now in the middle of the therapy session, Wendy had a small chocolate bar in her chubby right arm. Carefully guiding the bar up to her lips, she would nibble and take bites on and off whenever no one was looking.

Crafty bitch.

Clapping his hands together, Dr. Manfred announced, “Alright! There’s a brief summary for you, Janice, and now, you’re on the ball!! Have at it.”

Slightly pale in the face and neck, it seemed that Janice was ‘reeling’ back from all that information at once. A few of the more ‘alert’ patients in the group caught onto her strife, giggling and snickering. Poor Janice glanced down at her notes for a moment, swallowing thickly while her eyes grew as round as small saucers.

Watching her with mild patience being lost, Dr. Manfred nudged her verbally. “Janice? Are you alright?”

Jolting up a little perhaps in shock, she nodded warily. “I’m f-fine, Dr. Manfred…” Staring around the group once, she made a complete round, and then her soft green eyes landed on Billy. The light blue-eyed young man gulped, and he then quickly held his head down as though to try and hide away from her scrutinizing gaze.

Licking and smacking her slightly dry lips, she asked softly as she could, “Billy? Would you like to begin by telling me how you’re feeling on the topic of women right now??” When he only gaped at the floor in massive amounts of confusion, she clarified, “Err, let’s just start with your thoughts? Has anything changed from last week’s therapy session to now?”

The room was dead silent, causing the wind outside to howl even louder and more hauntingly than what it originally sounded like. There were chances of a storm brewing and on the way, but for the most part, the day was just mildly foggy and cloudy. Gavin couldn’t tell beyond that point; not when there wasn’t a single window in this room. As large and as spacious as it was, thankfully, it was still nothing short of odd to Gavin that the ‘group therapy room’, which took place in a decent sized gymnasium didn’t have a single window to allow natural light in.

He doubted a plant would be able to grow in here, let alone a mentally unwell person feeling relaxed or more ‘secure’.

As the silence in the room persisted, Janice coughed nervously. Dr. Manfred was waiting on her, and he stared at her in a bit of a domineering way that seemed to suggest she sucked at what she wanted to do for a living, quite frankly.

Trying to get her shit together fast, Janice rasped, “Billy? Do you have anything to share?”

Anything at all?

Billy chewed on his fingernails for a moment, and as he did, Wendy took this as a sign to continue her little ‘feast’ of sorts. Bringing out her candy bar from about her back, she pulled down the wrapper silently as she could, and she took a large bite. While she remained masticating, her jaw and double chin moved enough so that it drew Dr. Manfred’s attention. 

Scowling her way, before he faced her properly, she managed to hide her chocolate bar behind her large back again. Very little evidences of chocolate stained her lips, but Dr. Manfred was correct in his assertions anyway.

“Wendy,” he growled her way in a gravelly tone, “are you eating again?”

Shaking her head quickly, the large woman protested, “Noooo!!!” When she made to wipe her nose, she lifted an arm slathered in chocolate. It smeared along her nose and upper lip, causing a few of the jittery, anxiety-ridden patients near her to point and sneer like a bunch of maniacal hyenas.

Rolling his eyes while sighing, Dr. Manfred drawled out to himself, “We set you on a specific dietary routine, Wendy. How can you expect to lose any weight this way?!”

Gavin murmured under his breath, “Maybe she doesn’t want to lose weight, you tool.”

Thankfully, no one paid him mind, as all eyes were either on Billy, or Wendy. The pressure was mostly on Billy, and he turned almost rigid like stone because of it. Somehow, his jaw opened, however, and it only took a few seconds before he coughed and started forming a response. Throat clear, he spoke out timorously, “We-we-well, I th-th-think th-that umm, it’s g-g-gotten a-a-a l-lot better because I’m w-w-writing l-letters t-to a g-girl living i-in Russia.”

Nodding in amusement, Janice made to comment on that, when two identical twins almost thirty-seven-years-old named Judas and Joseph intervened. The two were quite inseparable, and relatively pessimistic at heart. Sometimes, for no reason at all, they would berate and put down others in the group, even to the point where Gavin-not so much a sucker of the dick of rules-wondered why they were even allowed to participate in group. The two slightly oriental looking men were snappy, irritable, short-tempered, and bitter…

Jerry hissed immediately at Billy, no doubt trying to put hm down. “You moron!” he chided sternly, “you’re obviously speaking with a scam artist!!”

Not wanting to interrupt the group, Janice and Dr. Manfred exchanged glances, and sealed their lips. Right now, the floor belonged to the twins, and to Billy. They were starting to throw odd questions at him, no doubt meant to interrogate and antagonize him; not facilitate discussion. This often had happened during group; some patients would bully less aggressive and less opinionated ones, and Dr. Manfred would just sit there and allow it like allowing a hooker filled with STIs to ride his cock all the way home.

Not impressive.

“How long have you been talking to this mystery girl?!” Joseph spat next, while Judas quickly chimed in with, “You didn’t send her any money, did you?! That’s how they take everything you have, piece by piece, and next thing you know, you don’t even own the clothes on your back and you have to sell your ass out there on the streets every night!!”

Appalled, Billy lowered his eyes to the floor, the first sign that the twins had worn him down. Blushing, he blinked quickly as he sputtered, “N-not Cynth-thia…sh-sh-she w-wouldn’t—”

“You bet your ass she will!” Judas crowed mightily, “She will sell you to the sharks the second she gets a chance, so you best cut out those delusions about ‘happy ever after with her’ while you still can, kid!!”

Wendy giggled as she sang childishly, “Billy the Kid! Billy the Kid!!”

A state of unrest flew about the group, and as the twins constantly berated young Billy, Gavin glared at Nameless. The android stood with his legs firmly planted on the floor, and on his kneecaps, he’d stretched and rested out his palms. Fingers clasped his kneecaps, and he sat straight, staring ahead at a wall behind Janice’s head. Of course, to expect him to participate in the conversation was going to be foolish. Nameless was about as useful as a piece of god damn furniture in the fucking room.

Scoffing, Gavin decided to put an end to the bullying. Enough was enough, and this was a boring, stupid way to waste time. At least they could put a damn effort into being resourceful about squandering therapy time; not verbally bashing some kid who couldn’t locate his own cock let alone defend himself.

Waving his arms at both twins, a look of disgust rose in Gavin’s eyes. Janice smiled at him. “Go ahead, Mr. Reed.”

Eyes widening, Gavin sighed, “Shit, Mr. Reed is my father…I’m Gavin, lady.”

A few patients snorted at this, but Gavin went on anyway. Not wasting time, he crudely pointed at the sadistic twins in an accusatory manner. “What’re you two doin’, anyway?”

They blinked at him in confusion, and then rasped, “Pardon? Us??”

“Yeah,” Gavin snapped angrily, “you think that it’s funny harassing some kid about his love life—” Pointing at Janice, then, he finished, “—Something which ain’t even _your_ business, woman.”

Snapping his fingers at Gavin as though he were a disobedient mutt as opposed to a human being, Dr. Manfred roared, “This isn’t part of the group discussions, Gavin!! Now! I’ve warned you about this before!!”

The others cringed and made sure to keep extra quiet, obviously not wanting to be yelled at in the same way Gavin was.

“One more outburst from you, and you’re out!” With that expounded and finalized, Dr. Manfred nodded at Janice to continue.

Snapping to attention, she wheezed while shaking weakly, “Err, right!” Chin still quivering, before anyone else could point something out, she picked on the ‘newest’ person in the room; Nameless. Nodding at the android in the hopes that it would grab his attention, she meekly whispered, “Nameless? Are you paying attention?”

Not even blinking so much as to swat a fly, Nameless hissed hardly above the cry of a ghost. “Yes. Of course.”

Nervously chuckling rang about as much as the noise levels rose in the room, no doubt due to how bland and without emotions present in his voice he communicated. Even Janice joined in the uncomfortable laughter, but then wiped her sweaty palms on her lap. “Nameless? Do you think Billy can get over his fear of being rejected by women?”

Again, LED light not even blinking or spinning, Nameless breathed, “Yes, anything you say.”

Fed up already, Gavin threw his arms up in the air. “Lady, forget it with this one; he’s not even paying attention.”

“But—”

“Trust me, you could say _anything_ to him, and he’ll keep saying ‘yes’ or some shit.”

Shaking his head in disagreement, Dr. Manfred barked sternly, “Gavin, I said leave it!”

“Just watch!” Trying to make his point once and for all, he faced Nameless and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Nameless,” he snickered as he leaned into him, “do you think all androids should suck dicks for a living?”

Pausing for a moment, Nameless’ eyes shifted half an inch towards Gavin before he muttered, “Yes, I do.”

Clearly having had more of this than he could tolerate, Dr. Manfred waved over one large orderly with thick muscles. “Gavin,” he called out loud enough to hopefully rouse some ‘law and order’ in the wayward patient of his. “Enough is enough; you need to leave if you can’t be respectful enough for the members of the group who genuinely take therapy seriously and want to get better.”

Majority of the patients were already too far gone and lost in their rounds of boisterous laughter, but Gavin didn’t seem to want to cease in his verbal tirade anytime soon. Flicking the tip of the android’s pert, perfect nose, he asked, “Nameless, when you jerk off, do you normally think of headless cows shitting in the mouths of donkeys, with their asses and mouths directly attached to each other? You know, kinda like an animal version of ‘Human Centipede’?”

“GAVIN!!!”

Nameless went ahead and answered it anyway. “Of course. Yes.”

Leaping up from his seat like a spring, Gavin cheered, pumping his fists into the air as he crowed, “AWWWWOOOO!!!! HAAAA!!! SEE?!?! I TOLD YA, FUCKERS!!!”

While he bowed, clearly far too proud of himself, many patients clapped and cheered him on. Soon, the group session turned into a damn riot, the ruckus echoing off every wall of the gymnasium. This fed into Gavin’s over-inflated ego, and he danced about while pumping his fists up and down in the air.

Absolutely not even close to the same area code of ‘impressed’ with the antics as the others were, Dr. Manfred nodded at the orderly. It was time to escort Gavin away, and the short, spunky man knew that from first-hand experience. Not wanting to fight and run the risk of hurting himself due to how large and thick the orderly was, Gavin pushed aside his chair and got ready for the man to latch onto his arm roughly. With more force than necessary, Gavin was then dragged out of the gymnasium and towards the door.

Before they could saunter out into the hall, Dr. Manfred ordered authoritatively, “No! Jordan!!” A hint of a rather sadistic, self-satisfied grin ate up majority of the old psychiatrist’s face, then. Staring at Gavin in such an odd, peculiar manner that it instilled feelings of pain and discomfort within the younger male, Dr. Manfred finally orated, “Take him to my office; we didn’t get a chance to finish our discussion from last time.”

Stomach churning in anxiety, Gavin felt his palms turning sweaty and clammy. Curling them inward so no one would notice, he only glared ahead down the hall once the orderly obeyed Dr. Manfred’s request and shoved Gavin down along the dreary path he’d practically memorized that led towards Dr. Manfred’s office.

(|””><””|)

Gavin pulled out a pen he’d snuck out of one of the drawers in Dr. Manfred’s desk. Seeing as the older male hadn’t shown up yet after group therapy, the orderly had tossed Gavin senselessly inside the office, slamming the door behind him. Left alone to his odd devices, the child within Gavin came out to play in no time. Burning with a vengeance, he searched through all the drawers quickly. Finding most of them to be tightly locked, he’d almost given up when he pulled out the slimmest of the drawers and found the pens, pencils, extra loose sheets of lined paper, white out, a few highlighters, as well as greeting cards neatly kept there.

Popping open the cap of the blue pen he now held proudly in his hands, Gavin finally set to work. Approaching the old black and white portrait of famous Austrian neurologist Sigmund Freud that hung next to a mirror Dr. Manfred often used for therapeutic purposes (the fuck?), evil thoughts swam about in Gavin’s head. The painting creeped him out, but Gavin wasn’t one to let his fears disparage and prevent him from causing trouble and stirring up shit if he wanted to…

He impishly grinned as he set to work drawing an obscenely large, thick ‘Viking style’ beard on the deceased doctor’s portrait. Next, he artistically let his hands and imagination wander. In less than five minutes, a pair of devil horns poked out and up from Freud’s skull. They sharply pointed high in the air, and as Gavin tried working on adding sharp fangs jutting forth beneath the deceased man’s upper lip, the door to the office suddenly clicked open.

Abruptly, Gavin tore himself away from the bastardized portrait and plopped down on a soft, dark chair before Dr. Manfred’s desk. Shoving the pen beneath his ass to cover it all up, he sat poised with an innocent smile a ten-year-old child would don to stay out of trouble.

Dr. Manfred walked in a few seconds later, head down and glasses off. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed the ‘art’ there on full display across his desk on the wall. Positioning himself perfectly enough in front it, Gavin’s head and upper body got in the way, effectively barring the distance between Dr. Manfred and his fantastic talents.

Sitting behind his desk with a strained sigh, Dr. Manfred placed his thin-framed glasses down and produced a soft, blue cloth from his glasses case perched by his laptop and vase. Wiping and cleaning the slightly murky lenses slowly, he hardly glanced up at Gavin as he grunted, “Today, the shit show in group was an obvious sign to myself and Janice that you definitely need to be brought in for further testing, Gavin.”

Tapping and drumming his fingers along the armrest of the chair, Gavin pursed his lips. A rather bitter expression appeared on his face before he snorted, “Yeah, sure Doc; I’ve always had quite the raging hard on bein’ your human lab rat.”

“I remember when we all completed a group survey last month, Gavin, your answers submitted were rather...” Cringing, Dr. Manfred pushed his chair back, fingers twitching towards his laptop. “Well, let’s just show you then, shall we?” Spinning the laptop around to face Gavin clearly, he opened the questionnaire Gavin now recalled going through not too long ago.

It was almost all comprised of a multiple-choice type test, with the second half being made up of scenarios the patients had to respond to based on a scale of emotions.

Tapping along the bright screen, Dr. Manfred read aloud, “Question twelve, it reads: ‘I’m walking down the street, and I see a child falling down and scraping his knee. My immediate reaction is to...” Glaring at Gavin fiercely, he continued, “...Point and laugh?!?”

Shrugging coldly, Gavin explained, “I don’t like kids, Doc.”

Rolling his eyes, Dr. Manfred scrolled down. Squinting along the rest of the page, he located and selected another question. “I find a starving dog outside. On a scale of one to ten, one being the least caring, and ten being the most caring, you selected negative ten?!?”

Again, Gavin’s face remained blasé. Impassively, he answered, “I’m more of a cat person, honestly.”

“An abandoned baby in a park is crying. I feel...” In pure disgust, he spat, “You wrote down that you feel you’d leave the baby there for squirrels and birds to feed on?!?”

Based on his emotional reaction, Gavin offered a tiny smile. “It’s not _my_ baby technically, Doc...”

Clamping his open palm over his face, Dr. Manfred let out a long, pained groan. Massaging and rubbing his face, he lastly rubbed his exhausted eyes as though to wipe all exhaustion and fatigue away from them. Turning the laptop away, he ground out, “Gavin, this is really bad.”

Nodding his agreement, Gavin commented, “I know; none of these options were available, so I had to do the work of adding them in myself.”

“For God’s sake, Gavin!!” Bashing his clenched fist against the smooth surface of his desk, Dr. Manfred nearly exploded right there in a fit of rage Gavin hadn’t witnessed too often. Items inside and outside the drawers bounced and rattled loudly due to the way he smacked the desk.

Eyes slightly wide, Gavin rasped, “Woah, relax! Not sure why you’re mad at me, Doc!” Waving him off, he concluded, “Not like I was the one who threw shit at your guards!!”

Closing the lid of his expensive, silver laptop, Dr. Manfred breathed slowly. His cheeks puffed in and out, his fists clenched and opened. He really was trying to keep his usually reserved, calm demeanor, but he was now starting to lose it.

Twitching uncontrollably for a second before he sat perfectly still, his lips hardly fluttered as he sniped with bite, “Gavin, instead of deflecting and highlighting the flaws of others, why don’t you try and look at yourself, hmm?”

A deep frown grazed along Gavin’s brow bridge. Mouth snapping shut tightly, his lips stretched out in a thin line as he looked away from his therapist.

This ensured that Dr. Manfred felt even more validated in his assessments and assertions. Knowing he’d gotten under Gavin’s skin already, he sat back and frowned a deep frown that only added onto his plentiful wrinkles about his face. Lips curling back in an almost sadistic, sinister grin, he purred, “Maybe you’re afraid to look into a mirror and write down what you see there, Gavin.”

Shrinking back as he did only served to feed into Dr. Manfred’s prior comment. Inching ahead in his seat, he concluded, “Thought so. But, things being what they are, Gavin, I can’t let this slip. I’m booking you in next week for a thorough observation and some tests.” Decision already firm and set, he hurriedly began writing down on a notepad before texting whatever the heck it was on his phone, a smug expression painting his features the entire time.

While he sat about stewing, Dr. Manfred finished with his notes. Once that was all complete, he threw Gavin a most self-satisfied smirk. Gavin wanted nothing more than to wipe it clean off his therapist’s face.

Wiping his hands along his dress pants, Dr. Manfred took a second to enjoy his shit-eating grin. Practically glowing, he inquired sharply, “Oh, by the way...how’re you getting along with your new roommate, Gavin?”

Already pushing his seat away from the desk to make way for a clean exit, he’d barely stood up, when Dr. Manfred’s arm shot out. It all happened so fast. Moving far quicker than someone at the brink of their youth, the psychiatrist latched onto Gavin’s hand, pressing it down and almost pinning it on the edge of his desk.

Slowly and cautiously, as though awakening from a nightmare, Gavin’s eyes made direct contact with Dr. Manfred’s. If the patient had been expecting anything aside from a look of pure contempt, he’d have been foolish to wait for it.

Smirking in ever the snooty manner, Dr. Manfred drawled, “Aren’t you having fun? Tell me, Gavin! I’d love to hear it all!!”

Oh, was he ever sarcastic, sadistic, and such a turtle-loving prick shit.

If there was one thing Gavin Reed had known and been certain of during all his time spent working as an officer and as a detective, it was that majority of people were quite predictable. Dr. Carl Manfred wasn’t exactly an exception to that rule, unfortunately. All this time, he’d behaved and stayed true to form. Gavin wasn’t the least bit surprised, but he was sure as shit annoyed as all hell.

But Dr. Manfred required an answer for his earlier question posed and suspended in the air.

Reaching for anything in the way of satisfying in terms of an answer, Gavin muttered inelegantly, “Things are good. The dude’s a fuckin’ laugh...you should see him.”

Nodding as his smile ate away at his entire face, the old psychiatric practitioner purred in amusement, “Oh, I shall.” His eyes twinkled with some kind of demonic force behind them that made Gavin’s skin crawl. It looked creepy as shit, and he wanted to leave the damn office, now.

“Great. So, are we done now?” Pointing rudely at the door of the office, Gavin added, “I believe it’s way past my bedtime, Doc.”

Releasing his hold on him at once when Gavin batted his eyelashes his way, Dr. Manfred chuckled in glee, “Of course. Goodnight, Gavin.”

Not at all wishing the older man a ‘good night’ in return, Gavin stumbled out of the office. Slamming the door shut behind himself, he tried not tripping over his own feet while speeding away. He ran like his life depended on it, flying down the halls like a kid during recess pacing around the yard.

On the other side of the tightly shut office door, Dr. Manfred glanced up and away from his notes and musings. In a few short moments, the look on his face changed from calm to angry. Cheeks puffed out, his nostrils flared, and he trembled violently.

Vision zoning in on the devil horns and long beard crudely drawn on the portrait of Sigmund Freud, he exploded out in a piercing, echoing scream.

“GAVIN REED!!!”

He sadly missed the large painting of Ivan Pavlov resting on the wall behind his head. A long, thick penis had been drawn on the other deceased psychologist’s forehead, dangling down into his nose, practically.


	5. Update (Passing the Torch)

I don't have too much in the way of news, but I am retiring from working on this story. I am currently waiting for someone who HAS expressed interest in taking this story up to email me back and continue it, but they haven't said a word to me in weeks.

Hopefully this individual will remain in communication with me, but if they don't, this story can totally be taken up by ANYONE who wishes to work on it and see it complete. I sadly have to step down because I am wrapping up 'Love Him in My Absence', as well as working on another Joker/Catwoman story, and I'm also trying to get a new job soon before summer. Busy schedule, honestly, but that doesn't mean the story is closed/ended. 

I would love to pass the torch on to someone else, and that's what the whole point of this note is for!!! 

Just let me know in the comment section if you are interested, otherwise, I'll try to hunt down Father Owl, see if he is up for it!!! 


End file.
